infinity mine

vangogh

van gogh

I have thought beyond daily toil
and seen hope rendered useless
with simple conjecture.
My self is vanity and
a soul satisfied in ego
is sorrowful emptiness.
Alas help me grasp
the planar vision of Jesus
with all of life
contained within four sides – each line
seeking the infinite dutifully in each direction.
I am the plane and emptiness subsides,
grasping each contained point
with each cell of my being.
O number these days
in sanctuary
with the Lord
and fill me with
Light and Love
and hope anew.
I am a being of God
and my every breath expels
vanity and inhales
peace.

(c) 2017 rick stassi

meadows green

renoir-landscape-summer

I long to see the lighter side
where troubled heart shall soon abide
engaging glances from heavenly will
seeking refuge in waters still.
I want to see the warming sky
where mind contemplates God on high
enraging a world so temporally serene
finding rest on meadows green.

(c) 2017 rickjstassi

love, faith, trust

I rarely feel,
in uncertain times,
I will see passage
to more forgiving climes.
Even knowing,
in steadfast love,
that passage begins
with descending dove.
Thus i forge ahead
where sea weds air,
and draw upon faith
for countenance fair.
But for closure to
this daily plod
it is trust that completes
this path to God.

(c) 2017 rick stassi

floating

woman-with-parasol-claude-monet

Woman with Parasol – Claude Monet

unfalling, floating still life –
a wingspan fortress.
forward motion extinct
and time is motionless.
I hear my heart in soft meter
among these days of solitude…
a gentle updraft respects
the greater pull of élan
in overt disregard
for earth and sea.

(c) 2016-2017 rick stassi

after death

youngpilgrim

There is mercy on the wings of a dove.
Alight! O Love, with peace to spare
darkened, cold, wintry plight.
How do eyes sunken in despair
see outward to jeweled sunrise
and know the hope of a new day?
There is joy inside, steeping –
ready to infuse all cells
with new life.
Just one drop of blood, one glance,
one touch of a hem,
gathers centuries of wandering –
wondering if my eyes should
ever meet the guardian eyes of God.
I can learn from others
who stubbornly plodded on
through one painful trial after another.
Diligent, or insane.

Can’t you see it is reasonable
to know Love is the cornerstone
binding the east and west wind
in a perfect crimson crease?
O cleave my soul with ancient ones
whose eyes serve as windows to where
I may look –
upon the Alpha and the renewal
of time with breath instilled
on silken skin no longer
writhing in tumult
but turning toward a new
daybreak of an age after death.

(c) 2016-2017 rick stassi